


I’m only a man with a candle to guide me.

by fuckup



Series: the antichrist & the twice blessed [2]
Category: Charmed (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unchanged Future, idefk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckup/pseuds/fuckup
Summary: Adam scratches his own jaw. Even now, with all the two of them have been through together — all the two of them havedonetogether — it’s still a movement that makes Wyatt tense all over, body and powers both.“Fine.” Wyatt spits out. He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, not entirely, but from the easy smile that appears on Adam’s face, he knows he’s going to regret it a little.AKA the one where the Antichrist & the Twice Blessed have a conversation about Chris's plan to 'save' Wyatt, while Bianca's corpse chills in the background.





	I’m only a man with a candle to guide me.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Monster' by Imagine Dragons.

“Didn’t reckon a chair leg would kill her.”

Wyatt doesn’t say anything to that. What, really, is there to say? He hadn’t thought a chair leg would kill a Phoenix Assassin, either. He’s definitely not going to let it out that’s what happened - people will start to get _ideas_ about the competency of his elite warriors, and who needs that? 

There’s the creak of that damn floorboard, as his perfect opposite comes up behind him, to stand at his shoulder. “Bet I could bring her back.”

The Triquetra on the attic wall still holds Wyatt’s most of attention, although he couldn’t verbalise why. It’s useless. Chris is fucking _gone_. “What would you bet?”

There’s a quiet. Not the frightened-deferential-ohfuck kind of quiet he gets from most everyone these days, but the ‘let me mull on that’ kind of pause. “You know that Funko Pop no one’ll confirm the existence of? The Dorbz one?”

“I know the one you mean.”

“That. I’d bet that.”

It’s quite probably the worst day Wyatt’s had this year, but _that_ , _that_ makes him break his staring contest with the wall that took his brother to look over at Adam with thinly-veiled mirth. “You’ve got a Dorbz of me?”

Adam grins. “Who’d you think made ‘em?”

Wyatt crosses his arms over his chest, and smirks. “Your obsession with me is reaching new levels of ridiculous.”

“You don’t reckon your worth being obsessed over?” Only Adam could say it like that, a genuine question and a rhetorical one, both at once. Only Adam could mean it as a playful comment and a topic change to the one person he is _not in the mood_ to talk about. Only Adam could get away with it.

“It’s not _me_ he’s obsessed with.” Wyatt says coolly, because it may be Adam being Adam, but he still needs to impose what limits he can. He hadn’t done enough with Chris, and look where that had got him. “It’s this insipid idea of who he thinks I _should_ be that he can’t let go of.”

There’s quiet for long enough that Wyatt has to flick his eyes over to Adam, to check for a reaction. The other man is frowning, which means he’s _thinking_ , which means he’s about to say something Wyatt doesn’t want him to. Normally, that would make him act, would make him distract Adam before he could come out with whatever annoying revelation he was going to. But now isn’t normal. His brother has betrayed him, betrayed all of their family, and he’s too damn tired to wrangle Adam.

“Not that dumb of an idea, in my opinion.”

Wyatt stares. This goes way beyond Adam saying something he just dislikes. “Are you out of your mind? This-” He spreads his arms out, eyes sharp on the other man. “Is who I am.” 

“Could be ‘cause of somethin’ that happened when you were a kid. Look at me, my childhood shaped me.”

Wyatt clenches his hand into a fist. He grits his teeth. He could choke Adam; he could at least _try_. “I’m not like you. I was raised _by the Charmed Ones_. If I was meant to care about good and evil, I would have done.” 

Adam looks back at him evenly. He’s the only person who can meet Wyatt’s eyes with a complete absence of fear, of obedience, of defiance. “Could be, is all I’m saying.” He breaks eye contact with Wyatt, even turns his back on him, does it in the way that says he trusts Wyatt at his back, despite everything. “D’you want to take the bet? Reckon I could still give it a bash, getting her back. Soul can’t be that far gone.”

Wyatt looks over at his brother’s fianceé’s corpse and feels cold. “No.” He knows that Adam is waiting for more of an explanation than that. He knows that Adam can wait a very long time, when he feels like it. Wyatt can wait longer.

“He won’t come back to you if you kill the person he’s in love with.” Adam says, finally.

“I don’t care.” Wyatt says, his voice like black ice. It’s even true. He doesn’t even _want_ Chris back anymore. Why should he give a damn about Chris, when Chris doesn’t give a damn about himself? Going back to a time before his own birth, risking erasing both himself and all the cousins. All because he cares about his idiotic ideas about good and evil more than the brother he actually has. To prove it to Adam - _not_ himself - he explodes Bianca’s corpse in a cloud of dark orbs. 

He turns back to Adam, and is briefly distracted by the realisation that the black hoodie his hands are shoved into is the ‘Straight Outta Lower Tadfield’ one that Wyatt had made for him as part of a deal they’d struck about who got Brazil. “Tell Phoebe to write a spell that’ll ensure the cousins’ existence, no matter what Christopher’s messing does to the timeline. And tell her to leave Chris _out of it_ \- if he wants to play with his own existence, he can figure it out himself.”

“Suppose I could ask her.” Adam says, not moving to do as Wyatt says at all. “If you say please.”

Wyatt gives him a flat look, and an equally flat, “Please.”

“’Course she might decide to not do it.”

A muscle ticks in Wyatt’s jaw. “Not write a spell that secures the continued existence of the one daughter she’s got left alive, and the memories of the other two? Of Paige’s children?” 

Adam shrugs. “She might like living in my territory nowadays, but you still banished her from her home, then went and made it into this place… Far as I can tell, Halliwells’ do like to cut off their nose to spite the face, as my mum would say.”

Wyatt stares at him. He doesn’t say that _he_ isn’t cutting off his nose to spite his face, but he’s sure Adam knows he’s thinking it anyway.

Adam scratches his own jaw. Even now, with all the two of them have been through together — all the two of them have _done_ together — it’s still a movement that makes Wyatt tense all over, body and powers both.

“Fine.” Wyatt spits out. He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, not entirely, but from the easy smile that appears on Adam’s face, he knows he’s going to regret it a little.

“Cheers, Wy.” Adam says, and leans forward on the toes of his sneakers to press a kiss to Wyatt’s jaw. “I’ll see you in Avalon for tea tomorrow.”

And lo, the Antichrist saunters off back to England.


End file.
